Queen of The Reapers by Jessa Halliwell
One
The tires screechin protest as Ezra slams his foot on the brake and pulls us to the side of the road. A brown cloud of dirt and debris settles around us as we come to a stop next to a long line of giant redwoods. I look at Atlas, Tristan, and Cyrus, but they don’t seem phased by the unplanned pit-stop. Then again, they too probably need a moment to digest my request.
“No.” Tristan says with a dismissive shake of his head. “It’s a s… stupid idea.”
Instead of letting myself react to his harsh refusal, I focus on the hem of the onyx suit jacket, barely grazing my thighs. The luxurious wool fabric is soft to the touch and as the other voices in the car chime in to the debate, I mindlessly run my thumbs along its pristine seams. It’s a pointless distraction, but I’m desperate to focus on anything other than the chaos erupting around me, even if I am the catalyst.
It’s been over an hour since we left Maria’s Cantina, but there’s still a hint of violence in the air. Almost as if it’s haunting us. Refusing to let us forget the massacre we left behind.
“In all fairness,” Cyrus drawls, casting a pointed look at his twin, “when have you ever thought any risk was worth taking?”
The icy glare Tristan shoots at Cyrus is enough to knock the wind out of me, but Cyrus just cocks a brow and chuckles. “What’s the matter?” He asks. “Hit a little too close to home?”
The tension crackling between the two of them is thick enough to cut with a knife, and of course, I’m the one seated in the middle of their battlefield.
Aesthetically, the twins are nearly identical. The same piercing emerald eyes, the same dark disheveled hair you can’t help but want to run your fingers through, and the same disarming good looks that should be illegal in such dangerous men. The similarities between the two stop there.
Cyrus is like fire. Explosive. Dynamic. And consuming. He could easily light you up and make you come alive, but on that same note, if you do him dirty, he’ll engulf you in his inferno and burn your ass beyond recognition.
Tristan is like ice. Cold. Impenetrable. And unpredictable. Getting through to him is like trying to chisel your way through thick walls of ice. Once you get there, the payoff will be worth it. But that's if and only if you can survive his frigid bite.
“Tris has a point.” Atlas says, raking his fingers through his hair as he leans back into the passenger seat. “We have enough on our plate.”
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out I'm the ‘enough’ he’s referring to. And as they each subconsciously glance my way, my suspicions are all but confirmed.
The weight of their stares burn into my skin, and the icy blast from the air conditioner does nothing to soothe the heat. Sweat coats the small of my back as little beads of moisture trickle down my spine. I’m in over my head, but letting them see my discomfort isn’t an option. This conversation is too damn important.
Gnawing on my nails, I glance at the clock on the dashboard and grimace. It’s only been a few minutes since Ezra pulled over, but the ensuing argument feels like it’s been going on for hours. I know they care about me. Probably now, more than ever. But the problem is, this isn’t about me, it's about her. And she isn’t something they ever planned on.
“She’s a liability.” Ezra says, cutting into the conversation. He flicks the ash of his cigarette out the window and pulls another long drag before continuing. “Jessie used her as bait. It's only a matter of time before someone else does the same.”
She’s not a liability,she’s family.
I feel my composure slipping and I know it's only a matter of time before my anger finds its way out. They’re treating my sister like she’s an inconvenience. Like she’s some fucking business decision they need to weigh out. Like she isn’t even a fucking person at all.
“We could s… send her away.” Tristan says, looking down at me. “Keep her safe from this s… shit.”
I almost scoff at his offer, but I stop myself short and maintain my cool composure. If the roles were reversed, I doubt he’d be so eager to send any of his brothers away. I’m sure they’d all fight with everything they had to stay together. I’m doing exactly what any of them would.
Tristan hooks his finger under my chin and tilts my head up. “S… Stevie, look at me.” He says, locking his dark emerald eyes with mine. “We can keep her s… safe. Don't you want that?”
Goddamnit.He’s putting me in an impossible situation. Deep down, I know he’s right. My priority has always been to keep her safe. The only way to guarantee her safety is to keep her as far away from The Reapers as possible. They would never hurt her, but their enemies might. Sending her away is the smart choice, but he of all people should know, the smartest choice isn’t always the right one.
“No.” I sigh, avoiding his eyes as I jerk my chin out of his grip. “I know my sister. If I try to push her away, she’ll just fight her way back to me. It won’t work.”
I don't need to look into his eyes to feel his disappointment.
“Fine.” He spits, looking out into the dense forest surrounding the G-Wagon. “Don’t come crying to us when she ends up f… fucking dead.” He says the last sentence under his breath, but with the deafening silence filling the SUV, he may as well have screamed it.
“Look.” Atlas says, pulling everyone’s attention on him. “It’s been a long day and emotions are high. Priority right now is going home and getting cleaned up. We can discuss all of this shit later. ”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
When Atlas gives an order, they all follow his command like gospel. We’re going home and no amount of pleading will get them to change their minds.
I want to trust that we’ll continue this conversation when we get home, but after watching this discussion go up in flames, it’s clear none of them want to bring Alex in. To them, she’s a risk not worth taking.
“I’m not going home.” I say, doing my best to keep my voice from wavering. “I’ll walk if I have to, but I’m going back for her.”
This could be my last shot at retrieving Alex. I have to fight them on this, even if they end up hating me for it.
I shift my gaze to the left and look at Tristan expectantly. The icy glare he shoots back at me stings, but I keep my face even.. There’s a challenge in his emerald eyes, and I know there’s no way I’m getting past him without a fight, so I shift my focus to the lesser of the two evils, his twin, Cyrus.
“Cy, can you let me out?” I ask, keeping my voice soft to disguise the frustration brewing within me.
Cyrus doesn’t bother to look at me as he shoots out his clipped response. “Not happening, Princess.”
What the hell.
“Cyrus.” I say, gritting my teeth to keep my anger under control. “I don’t have time for your little mind games. I need you to let me out. Now.”
“No.” His response is short, but the venom behind the word stings.
“Cyrus.” I whisper, moistening my lips. “You can’t be serious right now.”
He clenches his jaw and lets out an exaggerated sigh.
“What makes you think I’m joking?” He snaps, narrowing his eyes at me. “What? Are we supposed to be your little fucking lapdogs now because we saved you?”
“That’s not—”
“No, it is.” He says, cutting me off as he inches towards my face. “We aren’t those men, Princess.”
“I just thought—”
“You thought what? That things changed? That the men who own you suddenly transformed from monsters into princes? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, P, but we’re still The Reapers. The dangerous men you offered yourself up to on a silver fucking platter. You are ours. To own. To fuck. And to do whatever the hell else we want with. That hasn’t changed, P, and it never will.”
The cool veneer I was trying to cling on to immediately shatters. Fuck this and fuck all of them. If that’s how they see me, then why am I even trying to get them to understand? If all I am to them is a piece of property, they’ll never care about how I feel. Why would they? They have the power to do as they please and use my body any way they see fit.
No. The only way I’m getting back to my sister is if I fight for her. And if it’s a fight they want, it’s a fight they’ll fucking get.
Like a flash of lightning, I lunge out of my seat and shove my way towards the door. In the back of my mind, I know it’s pointless. Cyrus and Tristan can easily overpower me, but I refuse to back down. I have to fight for Alex, even if it is futile.
Constricting arms tangle around my body, but I don’t stop fighting. For their parts, Cyrus and Tristan try to stop me without injuring me, but my kicks and shoves are getting more violent by the second. I hate them for what they’re doing to me, and I hate myself for how far this is going.
“Stop!” The twins bark in unison, but I’m too far gone to listen to their orders. I've been constrained and restricted my entire fucking life and their blatant disregard for my needs just a lit a twenty-year-old fuse.
I scratch and I claw and I push and I shove until I can barely tell where my feet and hands are landing. Other voices start mixing with their protests and more hands are on me, but I block them out. I’m getting out of this fucking car now.
“GODDAMNIT STEVIE, THAT’S ENOUGH!” Atlas booms, pounding his heavy hand against the dash.
The anger and violence in his voice snaps me back to reality. I jerk my head in his direction and freeze. Fiery rage fills his eyes, and I can’t help but cower under his narrowed gaze.
“Stop acting like a petulant fucking child.” He spits, his breathing labored from trying to pry me off of his brothers. “We’re going home. Now. End of discussion.”
My bottom lip quivers and before I can block it out, an all too familiar emotion grabs a hold of me and pulls me under. Fear. Only this time the person terrifying me isn’t my mother, it’s Atlas.
I feel his anger and disappointment all around me, coating my skin and engulfing me. I’m drowning in it. I’m ashamed and, as much as I hate looking weak, I can’t stop the tears from welling in my eyes.
“That’s not my fucking home.” I sputter, choking on my words as my vision blurs with unshed tears. “That mansion is just a gilded fucking cage and you know it.”
I’m screaming now and my emotions are swirling through me like a tornado of rage, shame, guilt, and sorrow. I can’t hold it in any longer and the words are spewing out of me uncontrollably.
“You guys think you’re so strong. The fucking Reapers. The men who elicit fear in everyone they meet. But you know what I think? I think you’re four scared little boys trapped in the bodies of full-grown men. You control and manipulate and torture and trick your way into power because that’s the closest thing to love and acceptance you’ll ever feel. You think I’m some weak little girl that needs a prince to save her, but newsflash, I don’t need your kindness, I don’t need your love, and I especially don’t need you. The only fucking thing I need right now is—”
My words die off the second I take in each of their pained expressions. Regret sinks into my stomach and festers, making me relive all the bitter words I threw at them. I want to apologize. To tell them I didn’t mean any of it, but I can’t even stomach the idea of facing them. I can barely breathe, let alone speak.
My eyes flicker to each of them and I study their hard features. Cyrus’ brows are pulled together in a scowl and his fists are tightly clenched as he stares daggers at me. Tristan’s eyes are low and he presses his lips in a hard line as he avoids looking at me altogether. Atlas' head is cocked and his mouth is slightly ajar, almost as if he can't believe I’m the one who spewed such venomous words. And Ezra is looking at me with a question in his eyes. Like he no longer knows what to think about me.
Hurting them feels like I’m ripping a piece of my own heart out, but my concern for my sister outweighs any feelings I have for them. It has to. I’m all she has left.
I glance at Ezra and catch his reflection in the mirror. He’s looking out his window now, but as he pulls his cigarette up to his lips and takes a slow drag, his stormy grey eyes land on mine. God, he is going to kill me. What the hell was I thinking?
“Finish.” Ezra orders, studying my expression from his rear-view mirror. “Might as well get it all out now.”
He’s right. My feeble attempt to put out the fire my words ignited was pointless. I’ve already said the worst of it and it’s only fair that they hear my full thoughts before they decide what happens next. “The only thing I need right now is my sister.” I breathe, pulling in a shaky breath. “She’s the only family I have left. I’m ready to move forward, but she’s the one part of my past I can’t leave behind.”
The second I release the words, it feels like a heavy weight has been lifted from my chest. Atlas, Ezra, Cyrus, & Tristan sit silent for a moment and stare off into the forest, taking a few minutes to mull over everything I said. I keep my eyes low and wait for a response. I think about elaborating further, but I already said more than enough as it is.
After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Atlas is the first to speak up.
“Call her.” He says, spitting the words out as if they taste rancid in his mouth. “Have her head to Alessandro’s. Our men will take it from there.”
“I can’t.” I say, my voice sounding smaller than it ever has. “I have no way of reaching her.”
“Here.” Tristan barks, carelessly tossing the familiar rose gold iPhone on my thigh. “Have at it.”
Seeing my confiscated phone only fortifies the wall my outburst built between us. I avoid thinking about our past, but seeing my cell phone serves as a healthy reminder of how this started. Of how we started.
A few weeks ago, I was just their stubborn toy, and they were the men determined to put me in my place. Feelings have changed between us, sure, but the power balance needs to change if this is ever going to work. I’m not their toy anymore and it's about damn time they started treating me like it.
“You’ve had this on you this whole time...”
It's more of a statement than a question, but Tristan’s casual shrug gives me all the answers I need. I’m not sure why it bothers me. It’s typical controlling Reaper behavior. They want to keep me alive. That much is obvious. But The Reapers won’t suddenly change who they are just because they want me around. Sadistic tigers don’t change their stripes.
“Thanks, but I meant what I said.” I say, slipping my phone into the jacket’s pocket. “I can’t call her. Jessie destroyed her phone. The only way I can reach her is if I go to her.”
“Let me guess.” Ezra scoffs, flashing me a deadly smile as he crushes his cigarette against the side mirror and flicks the butt to the ground. “You want this little reunion of yours to happen now.”
Every fiber of my being is on edge as I try to predict what he’ll do next. I know Ez, in a lot of ways, better than his brothers do, but that doesn’t mean he’s predictable. Ezra may care about me in his own twisted way, but the monster within him will always dictate what he does. It's as much a part of him as the tattoos coating his body.
Before Ezra can speak again, Atlas cuts in. “Okay.” He says, rubbing his temple as he pulls a cigar from the glove box. “We’ll bring Alex in.” He offers, lighting it up and puffing out a thick cloud of smoke. “But if something happens to her from here on out, it's on you. Not us.”
“That’s fair.” I reply, looking into each of their hard faces. “I’m the one that’s bringing her in. So whatever happens to Al is on me.”
Before I can even finish my thoughts, Ezra whips the G-Wagon around in a sharp u-turn and smashes his foot against the accelerator. The tires screech in response, kicking up a storm of dust as he jerks the car back onto the narrow road. His white knuckles angrily grip the steering wheel and it takes everything in me not to panic as he guns it down the hill.
We’re going too fast and his brothers aren’t even reacting to his antics, seemingly in their own worlds. I latch onto my seatbelt for dear life as he swerves dangerously down the winding cliff-side road. He’s always threatened to hurt me, but I never imagined he’d try to kill us all like this.
I catch Ezra’s stormy eyes in the rear-view mirror and hold his gaze, silently willing him to slow the hell down. I search for the Ezra I know, the one I sacrificed my mind, body, and soul to over the last few weeks, but I don’t find him. The monster is the only one staring back and, as luck would have it, the fucker is pissed.
“Something wrong, Angel?” Ezra asks, his silky voice like a siren song for my stupid heart. The voice that chases my demons away and has the innate ability to soothe my nerves. It’s hard to believe it belongs to the same monster sitting behind the wheel.
Ezra thrives on the fear of others and no matter how much he scares me, fear is the one thing I can never afford to show him. Not if I want him to treat me as his equal and not if I want to be his.
Bringing my eyes back to his nearly black ones, I face him with my head held high and give him my full attention. He stares back at me unflinchingly as the car continues to swerve in and out of the opposing lane. Oncoming cars swerve around us with their horns blaring, but I don’t even flinch. It’s reckless, but I refuse to break his gaze, even at the expense of our safety. We’re in a war of wills and I need to show him that not only am I unafraid of the beast, but that I fully embrace its chaos.
Bring it on, monster.
After a few minutes of heart-stopping close calls, Ezra is the first to break our stare-off, and as he does, a slow smirk spreads across his face.
“Clever girl.” He remarks, locking his eyes back on the road. “Angel, don’t mistake this kindness as a sign of weakness. Leaving us was never one of your options.”
He doesn’t need to elaborate any further for me to understand the threat behind his words. There will be no leaving The Reapers. Not now and not ever.